


Sweet Gestures

by SuburbanSun



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Baking, Cookies, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Relationship Advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-22 15:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: “I’m sorry. Let me get this straight,” Stevie said, doing her best to suppress a smirk. “You need to use my apartment.”“Uh huh,” David responded, baring his teeth, just a little.“To bake.”He blinked at her expectantly, holding up a tube of store-bought cookie dough. “Well, I’m not exactly carrying this around just in case I need a snack."





	Sweet Gestures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elegantstupidity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/gifts).



“I’m sorry. Let me get this straight,” Stevie said, doing her best to suppress a smirk. “You need to use my apartment.”

“Uh huh,” David responded, baring his teeth, just a little.

“To bake.”

He blinked at her expectantly, holding up a tube of store-bought cookie dough. “Well, I’m not exactly carrying this around just in case I need a snack.” Stevie raised both eyebrows, and he huffed. “Okay, I may have bought two tubes and eaten two-thirds of the other one before I left the motel. But I don’t have an oven, ergo, I need yours. Please.”

Still amused, Stevie held the door open to let him in. “Okay… what about Patrick’s place?”

“You mean Ray’s place?” David asked, dropping the tube of cookie dough with a dull thump onto Stevie’s kitchen counter. “Yeah, Ray apparently teaches a cooking class on Wednesdays now. In his own kitchen. So that’s not an option.” He bit his lip, and Stevie narrowed her eyes.

“...And?”

“...And, also, the cookies might be apology cookies for Patrick.”

“Uh huh.” Stevie leaned back against the counter across from him and cocked her head to the side. “What did you do _now_?”

David glared at her. “I resent the implication that I’m regularly doing things that need apologizing for. But if you _must_ know…” He sighed. “I left him alone at the store while I took a six hour nap.” Stevie snorted, and David’s glare turned withering. “It was _restorative_.”  

“I’m sure.”

“Anyway.” He put his hands on his hips and looked around her small kitchen. “Where are your rolling pins?”

Stevie coughed out a laugh. “Plural?”

“Yeah, I assume I need to roll out the dough,” he said, making an elaborate rolling motion in the air as he did. “And then, like, make a nice glacé icing.”

She eyed the tube of cookie dough that had rolled to a stop on the counter. “David, these are store-brand slice-and-bake chocolate chip.”

He shrugged, waving one hand in the air. “What, is that not apologetic enough?”

Stevie’s smirk softened, just like it always did when it came to David and Patrick. She couldn’t help but want them to make it work. “Patrick’s gonna love them.”

He looked at her as if she hadn’t finished her sentence. “...and they’re going to be delicious?”

She paused. “...Patrick’s gonna love them.”

“Okay, that’s just-- hmm.”

Trying to keep her laughter to herself, Stevie moved around him to pull a cookie sheet out of the cabinet beneath the sink. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used it. She held it out to David, and he took it, clutching it to his chest. Next, she pulled a knife from a butcher block and held it out to him handle-first, then pulled it back.

“Can I trust you with a knife?”

He pursed his lips and took it from her. “I’ll have you know that once, my dad hired Gordon Ramsey to do a knife skills presentation at a Rose Video convention for top performers and family. It was supposed to teach the employees teamwork.”

“How do knife skills teach teamwork?”

David squinted. “I wouldn’t know. I cut myself within the first five minutes and had to be taken to the emergency room.”

“Ah.” She gently pried the knife from his hands and cut open the package, pulling out the log of dough. “Maybe I’ll just help with this batch.”

“Thanks,” David said, leaning back against the counter and watching her slice the dough. “Maybe--” He gestured. “Maybe a smidge thicker than that.”

Stevie quirked an eyebrow. “I’m baking Patrick’s apology cookies and you want to backseat chef me?”

“Fair point.”

They settled into a comfortable silence: Stevie slicing, David watching. It was only after all the raw cookies were laid out in neat rows on the pan that David spoke up, his voice softer than usual.

“Cookies aren’t always going to be enough, are they?”

Stevie frowned. “What do you mean?”

He nonchalantly picked at a chip in the countertop. “I know I can be… a lot to deal with, in a relationship. I can’t always rely on sweets to make up for that.”

“That’s why God invented single malt whiskey,” she said sagely, and he glared again. Stevie laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s just-- that boy is completely head over heels for you. I mean, sure, you should probably try not to be a pain-in-the-ass whenever possible, which I recognize is hard for you, what with your _condition--_ ”

David’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “Yes, there really ought to be a telethon for us pains-in-the-ass, thank you ever so much for your concern.”

“--but he _loves you_ , and that’s not going to just go away because you accidentally sleep through the afternoon, or use up all the conditioner in the shower--”

“--ugh, I could never, Patrick uses one of those awful 2-in-1 kinds--”

“--or _whatever_.” She slid the cookie sheet into the oven, shutting it with a metallic thud, then turned to face him. “You’re not going to scare him away. Not that easily.”

David continued to pick at the countertop with one fingernail, but a smile played at the corner of his lips, and she could tell he had really heard her. “So,” he began. “What you’re saying is… being myself won’t _necessarily_ immediately sabotage my relationship.”

Sometimes Stevie felt the strong urge to hug David, before she remembered she wasn’t the hugging type, and neither was he. “No. I think you’re safe to let your freak flag fly.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

Stevie grinned. “I see your true colors shining through,” she sang, as off-key as she could possibly muster. David cringed. “Patrick sees your truuuuue colors, and that’s why he looooves you…”

“Please never sing again.”

“Beautiful… like a raiiiiinbow,” she warbled, as he mimed gagging. The sweet scent of chocolate chip cookies began to fill the air, and Stevie giggled. She knew the apology cookies would work, just like she knew they weren’t entirely necessary.  

But David was kind of her best friend, and if he needed a little reassurance about his relationship, then she could be the person to give it.

As long as she got to tease him in the process.

“So don’t be afraid!” she sing-shouted.

“You’re dead to me.”


End file.
